


New X-Men

by Whitehat2018



Series: New Mutants: Children of the Atom [4]
Category: New Mutants, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-14 15:49:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16043606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitehat2018/pseuds/Whitehat2018
Summary: In the wake of the New Magus Saga, Citizen X collects his closest friends into a team of X-Men!  New HQ!  New mission!  New Mutants!  But can the New X-Men save mutantkind and the world when they can't even save themselves?





	1. Issue #1: For laughs, for luck, for the unknown

               As the sun fell across her desk, Kitty Pryde – Headmistress Pryde – shook the sheaf of papers in her hand and looked up at the man sitting across from her.  Roberto da Costa was grinning at her.  Despite the heat wave that had gripped the city, he was impeccable, as neat as a razor.

               _And just as sharp_.  Kitty leaned back in her chair.  “A little on the nose with this one, aren’t you, Bobby?”  She raised her eyebrows and went on, “When you told me you wanted to lead a field group of X-Men I should’ve guessed where it was going, and to be fair, I wasn’t about to laugh you out of here like I did Havok—

               “I appreciate the distinction.”  Bobby said.

               “Right.  Anyway, here’s the thing.  Some of your prospects aren’t even talking to each other—”  Kitty said.

               “Easily remedied.”  Bobby said.

               “Some of them have lingering emotional baggage after intense personal losses that makes them vulnerable.”  Kitty went on.

               “…True.”  Bobby admitted, with a diffident shrug.

               “And one of them, I’m loathe to let out of my sight again.”  Kitty narrowed her eyes.  “Besides, the two of you never got along.”

               “We didn’t get along when we were _fifteen_.  And fifteen is a long way gone, as you well know.  The X-Man in question needs to feel useful, to know that… that not only do his friends want him around, there are things for him to do.  That he is not, and has never been, the third wheel.  Accurate?”  Bobby’s smile took on a faintly wintry tone.

               “…Accurate.  Which is why he’s on a plane on his way to London right now.”  Kitty said.  “You’re sure about this?  The student squad you knew is a long way in the rear-view mirror.”

               “Kitty,”  Bobby said, leaning forward, all earnestness, “If Thanos landed right now and I was forced to hand-pick a team to take it to Grape Ape, believe me when I tell you that I’d take this roster, slap She-Thor and Hercules in there, and have at him.”

               “…She-Thor?”  Kitty said.

               “She’s got the eye of the tiger.”  Bobby said, waving it off.  “Anyway.  At this time, in this moment, none of these people are dead, non-functionally insane, on another planet, or worse, on another team.  It might last for a month, it might last for a year—but I think my _curriculum vitae_ proves that I _can_ lead a team of X-Men… and I’m in a place to ask you for exactly the team that I want.”

               Kitty waved the paper, teasingly.  “And _Miami_?”

               “You have New York covered.  California’s got too much emotional baggage attached to it.  Miami is an eyeblink away, the way we travel.  It’s a major city that doesn’t get a lot of coverage.  And I happen to own a building there that I can convert into an X-Men base.  Besides… it’s a grand excuse for an overworked Headmistress to come supervise and then go to the beach.”

               Kitty put her finger over her mouth.  “You know, Tony Stark is right—you really could sell a sno-cone to an Inuit.  All right.  Sold.”  She glanced back at the paper.  “Commander answering directly to Shadowcat, Citizen X.  XO and morale officer, Cannonball.  Combat theater leader, Moonstar.  Hand-to-hand combat specialist, Wolfsbane.  Psi-ops, Karma.  Occult ops, Magik.  Firepower specialist, Magma.”  She paused.  “Nice pun.”

“Thank you, it took me all night to think of it.”  Bobby said, his eyes glittering.

               “Tech-ops and unorthodox operations, Cypher and Warlock, functioning in a co-capacity.”  Shadowcat set the papers down on the desk.  “With additional X-Men requisitioned from Shadowcat as necessary.  Okay, Bobby – you have your team.  If you can convince all of them to buy in.”

               “Oh, I did that last night too.”  Bobby said, his grin widening.  “See you in Miami, boss.”

               Kitty rolled her eyes and put her chin in her hand.  “Get out, Bobby.”

               Bobby got up, and put his hand on the doorknob, and then paused.  “…You know, Doug was right?  You really _do_ have Bette Davis eyes.”  He slipped out the door just in time to avoid the sheaf of papers, as Kitty picked them up off the desk and whipped them at him.

_The night before…_

               Doug’s phone buzzed, and he picked it up.  “Moshi-Moshi.”

               Bobby’s voice came out of the phone.  “Hey, Doug.  I’m putting the band back together.  If you say no…”  A moment later, Bobby texted him a picture of an ‘Elvira’ pinball machine, which he was holding out over a balcony with one hand.

               Doug blinked at the phone.  “You wouldn’t _dare_.  That’s blackmail!”

               “Well, you’re right, I wouldn’t, it’s an American Classic.  But I will absolutely, definitely not let you play it.”  Bobby said.

               Doug paused.  “…Who else is in.”

               “The whole crew.”  Bobby said.

               Doug raised an eyebrow.  “I can tell by the inflection in your tone that I’m the first one you called, you know.”

               “Yeah, well, they’re _going_ to be in.”  Bobby said.

               Doug tapped his finger against his jawline for a moment.  “…Okay.”

               “Knew you’d jump for it!  No take-backs!”  Bobby hung up.

               Doug looked at his phone in disbelief, and then returned to packing.

_A little later…_

Bobby opened the door and peered into the room.  Sam was unkempt, half-dressed, sitting and ignoring a TV that was on, displaying the news, face fuzzy with several days’ growth of beard.  “Heyyyyy, buddy.”

               Sam looked up, and then with a sigh, shifted over to one side of the sofa.  Bobby slipped in and picked up a pair of boxers.  He grimaced and tossed them away, before he sat on the couch next to Sam, and threw a friendly arm around his shoulders.

               “Sorry Bobby,”  Sam said, “I’m low.”

               “Lower than a hog’s belly in the holler?”  Bobby said.

               “…Yup.”  Sam closed his eyes.  “She left me, Bobby.  Izzy left me, and I can’t figure out why.  I went from bein’ a man with a family to a man with nothin’.”  Sam paused.  “…You know what I mean.”

               “Well, in an abstract sort of way I do.”  Bobby said.  “Look… I can’t get rid of this pain for you.  I would if I could.  You know that!  I’d do anything for you.  I’d kill for you.  You know I would, because I have.”

               Sam winced.

               “Hey man, in some ways our life is a series of pretty portraits, some of them of ugly stories.  It’s like your therapist told you – denial of events and repression of your emotions are the enemy.  So, if you need to be sad, be sad.”  Bobby looked around.  “ _But…_ being sad in this dark and kind of smelly suite in the middle of the school isn’t going to be as helpful as maybe being sad in a penthouse in sunny Miami with your closest friends.”

               Sam paused.  “…I don’t know if I can stand to be in the same room with Dani right now without losing my cool, Bobby.”

               Bobby grinned, wide.  “She’s got other stuff going on right now.”

               Sam paused.  “…Okay.”

               Bobby beamed.  “Right!  Now, you smell like a taco food truck, so why don’t you go get a shower and shave and then we’ll go down to the kitchen and I’ll see if we can’t have the cook whip you up some of those disgusting scrambled eggs and squirrel’s brains without the girl with the antlers finding out and getting upset again.”  Bobby winked.

               Sam grunted, and then sniffed one of his armpits, before giving a deep wince.  “Lordy.  …You promise Dani’s sitting this one out?”

               “I promise that when you get to Miami, she won’t be there.”  Bobby said, crossing himself.

               _Still later…_

               “…So, I told Sam a little fib.  Half a fib really.  It’s a _technical_ truth, which is really still the truth.”  Bobby said, as he walked with Dani along the school grounds.  “You’ve got to take Brightwind to the Valkyries horse show in Asgard,  so you’re going to be delayed getting to Miami for a few days, and when you show up I’ll have him relaxed and mostly defused—and then you two can settle this, probably by punching one another in the face, which is generally how you two do things.”

               Dani gave Bobby the side-eye.  “I get the distinct feeling I’m being played.”

               Bobby held up his hands.  “Hey, _hey_.  I manipulate my enemies, never my friends.  My friends I just… occasionally nudge a bit.  So, they’re in the right place for good things to happen to them.  It’s my way of saying ‘I love you’.”

               Dani snorted, and then looked down.  “I feel awful, Bobby.  I wish I could fix this.  I didn’t—”

               “You did.  But sometimes, you do.  It’s an endearing part of who you are… unless someone happens to be the person on your list.”  Bobby sighed.  “He’ll forgive you.  Just… say you’re sorry and mean it, and eventually he’ll cave.  He doesn’t blame you for Izzy walking out.  He doesn’t blame anybody but himself.”

               Dani’s hands tightened into fists.  “Yeah… that’s _bugging_ me, Bobby.  On the list of men you walk out on with no explanation, where would you put Sam?”

               “Oh, right before the Holy Father and right after the Hulk, for different reasons.”  Bobby said, easily.

               “Yeah.”  Dani said.  “Yeah.  Something _stinks_ , and I think I’m not going to be happy until Izzy freakin’ Kane fesses up.”

               “Dani…”  Bobby said, “…You sound dangerously like you’re preparing to meddle.”

               “It’s not meddling.”  Dani said, as they walked along, “It’s information extraction.”

               “Just be careful,”  Bobby said, as they strolled into the house, “You two are a lot alike, and she might surprise you…”

               _Later still…_

               Amara looked up from her cell phone as Bobby walked into the room.  “I’m still mad at you.”  She said.  “Also, Doug texted me.”  She held up her phone.  “I’m in.  Now get out of my sight.  I’ll tell you when I can stand to look at you.”

               Bobby gave a double-thumbs up, a sickly grin, and backed out of the room.

               Amara went back to her phone.  “ _Miami…_ I’m going to need all-new bathing suits.  Ooh, that one’s _skimpy_.”  She looked toward the door, and smirked.  “Men looking at me in it’ll drive him _crazy_.  _Buying it_!”

               _After that…_

               “Self is not happy that SelffriendKitty sent Selfsoulfriend on a journey without Self.”  Warlock said, to Xi’an, as the two of them sat leaned over a chessboard.  Warlock absently moved a bishop, taking one of her knights, and putting her king in check.  “Self declares ‘Check’ against SelffriendXi’an’s playing piece, designate:King.”

               “Good movie.”  Xi’an said, stroking her chin.  “You feel that the two of you have grown apart—and you’re unhappy about it.”

               “Self feels like Selfsoulfriend is rejecting Self.”  Warlock affirmed, as he scanned the game with an eye on a stalk but kept his gaze on Xi’an.  “Self is not even sure SelfsoulfriendDoug is aware.”

               “People think on multiple levels.  It’s beyond dispute that he loves you,”  Xi’an said, as she moved a rook, taking the Bishop and freeing her king, which also put the rook in a position to protect it.  “But I think coming back the way he did took awhile to catch up with Doug.  And then the business with True/Friend left him unmoored… directionless.”  She glanced back up at Warlock.  “He didn’t get a chance to grow up with the rest of us, Warlock… to find out who he was.”  She paused.

               “I believe… _somehow,_ that you had his soul all along.  You held it in trust—you kept it with you.  All Eliphas Bard resurrected was meat and mind.  So, I don’t believe he was ever really dead… ever really gone.”  Xi’an paused.  “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a man unmoored.  The people who were fixtures in his life have all changed, and for a person as invested in pattern as Doug, that’s jarring.  A moment of self-doubt, and he wound up questioning everything around him.”

               “Self has not changed.  Self remains self.”  Warlock said, a sulk creeping into his voice.

               “Oh Warlock,”  Xi’an said, giving him a sympathetic look.  “You’ve changed so much.  You used to need Doug… now Doug needs you.”

               “Self still needs SelfsoulfriendDoug.”  Warlock said, moving a piece.

               “You do…”  Xi’an said, “But you don’t _depend_ on him.  Not the way you did.  In some ways… when Doug is with you I think he feels dependent on you… and like he’s a burden to you.”  As Warlock began to protest, Xi’an silenced him with a smile.  “You _know_ how proud and how stubborn he can be.  Now imagine that in a man who’s cramming almost a decade of growing up psychologically into a couple of years… after a deeply traumatic second birth?”

               “Self… Self does not wish for SelfsoulfriendDoug to push Self away.  Self wants to help him.”  Warlock said.  “SelffriendXi’an has put Self in checkmate.”  He said, eyeing the board.  “In four moves.”

               “Three moves.”  Xi’an said.

               Bobby chose this moment to tap on the door.  “Ah, hello.  I’m sorry to interrupt – actually I’m not sorry, I was out in the hallway listening to the whole conversation.  I wanted to talk to the two of you.”

               Xi’an tilted her head.  “You’re trying to put the gang back together.  You were broadcasting.  You’ve already got Doug, Sam, Dani – you fibber!  And Amara to agree.”

               “Self will go where SelfsoulfriendDoug goes.”  Warlock said.  “Even if he is trying to find who he is apart from Self.”

               Xi’an looked up at Warlock, and then said, “And that’s why you’re a wonderful friend, Warlock.”

               She glanced toward Bobby.  “I have my own irons in the fire.”

               “I’ll help you make them happen.”  Bobby said.

               “I want to handle them my way.”  Xi’an said, as she began to collect chess pieces to put them away. 

               “And I’ll help you do that.”  Bobby said.  “I can’t do this without you, Xi’an.”

               Xi’an smiled.  “You can.  But you don’t want to.  And that is why I’m going to say yes.  But now you have the tough jobs.”

               Bobby puffed out his cheeks, and says, “Yeah.  Rahne and Illyana… I think I’m up to it, though.  Wish me luck?”

               “Oh, Bobby… who needs luck when you have skill?”  Xi’an said.

               Warlock’s eyes changed sizes.  “Self has objective proof that SelffriendBobby can do anything.”

               Bobby looked up, and the corner of his mouth turned up.  “And that… is all the fuel I need to make the final push, ‘lock.  That’s all I need.”

               _A short time later…_

               Illyana looked up from her scrying pool, at the sound of the knock on a door.  She waved her hand and it opened, causing Bobby to stumble in a half-step.

               “May I help you, Roberto?”  She asked, her voice cool.  As Bobby righted himself and sat on her bed, Illyana murmured, “…Make yourself comfortable.”

               Bobby looked up and met Illyana’s gaze.  “I’m getting the team back together.  So far, I’ve got everybody in, except for you and Rahne.”

               Illyana looked back down into the pool.  “This is a pointless exercise in nostalgia, Bobby.  Sam is riddled with suppurating insecurities.  He’s _weak_.  Dani _failed_ as a leader, and because of her incompetence, Doug almost _jumped off a cliff_.  Rahne is a ruin.”  She turned back to her scrying pool.  “If what you are hoping is to resurrect the corpse of what we were when we were children, then you are a fool.”

               Bobby stroked his chin.  “And what if that’s not what I’m looking to do?”

               Illyana didn’t look up.  “Go on.”

               “We can only be who we are _now_ , ‘Yana.”  Bobby leaned in, earnest and serious.  “I’m not trying to wind back the clock, and I’m not trying to go back to being students discovering who we are in that grand old pile.  We _know_ who we are.  And we know how to work together… how to multiply our strengths and compensate for one another’s weaknesses.  I’m talking about putting together a team of full-fledged X-Men, with a cause and the ability to accomplish great things.”  He laced his fingers together.  “And if it happens to reunite us as a family—well, then I just happen to get everything that I want.”

               Illyana waved her hand over the scrying pool, the image within wavering and breaking apart beneath her hand.  She looked up, sharply.  And then, ever so slightly, her expression softened.  “…It’s the nature of families to drift apart, Bobby.”

               “To that, I retort, Ecclesiastes three, one through eight.”  Bobby said.  “But for your sake, I’ll spare you the full recitation.   I want this, Illyana.  And if you’re not here, I don’t have it.  You tell me what I need to give you, and I’ll give it.  I’ll get it.  I’ll do it.  I have plenty of pride but absolutely no shame.”

               Illyana was quiet, for a long time, and then she looked up, and met Bobby’s eyes.  “You trust me.”

               “With my life.  We’re family.”  Bobby said.  “We’ve gone through too much together for me to ever think you could turn on us.”

               “That’s a childish way of seeing things.  But then again…”  Illyana said, rising, “You’ve always been a paradox.”  She threw back her head, suddenly, and laughed, clear and hard.  “A scheming idealist, who manipulates people into being their best selves!  Oh…”  She reached back and ran her fingers through her hair.  “I have _missed you_.  I’m in.”

               “You’d already decided before I got here,”  Bobby said, his voice wry.  “You just wanted to harrow me.”

               “You’ll never know.”  Illyana said.

               _And finally…_

               “Bobby da Costa,”  Rahne said, curling her claws into the trunk of a tree, “Are ye _daft_?”  She set her ears back and gave Bobby a steely glare.

               “Rahne…”  Bobby said, holding his hands up, palms out, “…Please?”

               Rahne paused and blinked.  “Please?  _Please_?  I’ve nae doubt ye made grand pitches tae sell the others on this _bloody mad_ idea and you look me in the eye an’ the best mister clever git can come up with is _please_?”

               Bobby’s mouth flattened into a line.  “Well, you know—I have to make a judgment call on what’ll work.”

               “An’ ye think that a _please_ will bring me on board.  Ye think that I think so highly o’ ye that ye can win me over with a heartfelt _please_.”  Rahne gave Bobby a disgusted look.  “…Ye know me too well.”

               Bobby gave a wide, beaming smile.  “I _do_.  Now…”  he held his arms out, “Can I get a hug?”

               Rahne rolled her eyes and gave a smirk, before she stepped out, and wrapped long arms around Bobby.

               Bobby embraced Rahne warmly.  “No takebacks,” he murmured into her hair.

               Rahne quirked her mouth.  “Ye wicked thing!”

               _The next afternoon…_

               The stepping-disk opened out into the penthouse, and the group stepped out into it, all together, _sans_ Doug and Dani.  The penthouse was well-lit, with furniture covered in white sheets, spacious.  Bobby looked at the others, and then set down his suitcase.  “Welcome to Miami HQ.”

               He walked forward and looked around.  “Everybody take a minute to get settled in, claim a room, relax a bit—and then…”  He turned around, and his smile glowed, full of promise and not a little delight.  “And then… to me, my X-Men.”


	2. Issue #2: Bienvenidos a Miami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrong place, right time! Karma, Magma, Wolfsbane, and Magik intervene in a kidnapping attempt, and stumble into a mystery that could shake what it means to be a Mutant to the very core!

               “Ya cannae be serious.”  Rahne said, pointing, “You’re letting Illyana take the biggest room, an’ the one tha’s got it’s own bloody head!?”  Rahne gestured, angrily, her lip pulled back to show an elongated canine despite her own human form.  “Tha’ means the rest of us gals are sharin’ one bathroom, an’ you KNOW Amara hogs it in the mornings!” 

               Amara snorted.  “Says the girl who leaves the drain full of fur.”

               “Doesnae seem fair, her havin’ that all tae herself—”  Rahne began.

               “…Who says I’ll be in there alone?”  Illyana said, a wintry smirk on her face.

               Rahne growled, audibly.

               “Ladies, _ladies_ ,”  Bobby said, stepping in, “Illyana has made some arrangements with me in exchange for getting the master suite.”

               Xi’an walked in.  “Hey, guys, a demon’s dusting the blinds.”

               Rahne swung around to look at Bobby, who shrugged his shoulders and grinned, helplessly.  “Support staff.”

               “I’ll do ma’ own blasted laundry.”  Rahne said, before she turned to Amara. “An’ _you_ had better stick to the bathroom chart, prima donna.”

               Amara stuck her tongue out.  “So when’s Doug getting back?”

               “He’ll be in England for at least another week.”  Illyana said, “Spending some time in the English countryside with Brian Braddock.  Kitty’s got another job lined up for him after that, but he’ll have a few days in between to get settled in here.”

               “SelffriendSam is still emotion:depressed.”  Warlock said, extending his head into the room.  “Selffriend is currently listening to sad songs by Musician:Willie Nelson.”

               Bobby quirked his mouth.  “’Whiskey River’ or ‘Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground’, Warlock?”

               “’Whiskey River’, SelffriendBobby.”  Warlock’s head retreated from the room.

               Bobby rolled his eyes.  “Okay.  That I can work with.  He listens to ‘Angel’ when he wants to cry, ‘Whiskey River’ when he wants to be alone, and ‘Redheaded Stranger’ when he’s sad-mad.  Now, if he were to switch to George Jones, we’d be in trouble—”

               A voice, singing off-key, carried out of the hallway.  “SoOoOoOOoon they’ll carrrrrrrry… hiiim awaaaaaaaaaaaay~!”

               Bobby put his hands over his eyes and groaned.  “And we’re right back to square one.  I gotta go tear Sam away from the Possum.”  He got up.  “If you’ll excuse me.” 

               After Bobby left them alone, Rahne looked to Xi’an, Illyana, and Amara.  “Well… here we are.  I…”  She cleared her through.  “There was a lot we dinnae talk about in New York.  But… after everything that’s happened tae me…”  She squared her shoulders.  “It’s good tae be here with all of ye.”

               “Rahne, cloying displays of sentimentality don’t suit me.”  Illyana said.  “But I’m… sorry.  You lost Hrimhari, and then you lost your son—and if it had been me, the world would be suffering for my grief.”

               “That—”  Rahne paused.  “Thank you.  I think.”

               Xi’an shook her head.  “Come on.”  She said, “Let’s go out.  The city’s our playground, and I could use some sunshine.”

               “Agreed.”  Amara said, “I adore autumn in New York, but the tropical climate suits me much better.”

               Illyana looked up, with an unblinking gaze to the others.  “I’m in, if we take Warlock with us.  We could use the levity.”

               “…Agreed.”  Rahne said, before she looked up, and then whistled.  “Warlock!”  As Warlock loped into the room, Rahne stood up.  “Put your face on, love, we’re goin’ out.”

               _Later: Miami’s Design District…_

               “When we were living in San Francisco,”  Amara said, as the group strolled along a boulevard, “We had this restaurant we went to all the time, they served barbecue.”  She paused.  “On reflection… the place was… not very good.  But it was nice, being together.  We should find a Miami place.”

               “Jamaican.”  Rahne said, as they strolled along, “I vote for Jamaican, they do a proper curry.”

               “Cuban.”  Amara retorted.  “Miami has the best Cuban food in the world, except for actually being _in_ Cuba.”

               “When were you in Cuba?”  Rahne asked, narrowing her eyes.  Xi’an grinned in response.

               “Self does not consume food in the same manner as Selffriends, but Self casts Self’s vote for someplace with a band.”  Warlock said, disguised as a towering man walking alongside the group.

               “Russian.”  Illyana said, pushing down her sunglasses, the corner of her mouth turning up as Xi’an and Rahne rolled their eyes.

               “Well, we can always—”  The sound of an explosion ahead of them stopped Rahne short.  “Eh?”

               “Let’s check it out.”  Xi’an said, before she gestured.  “Warlock?” 

               Warlock looked up, and then transformed into a hovercraft.  “Declaration:Everybody on!”  As the girls got aboard, Warlock crowed, “Whooooo-aaaaaa-aaaaa, Self needs a hero~” and took off through the streets, rising into the air over cars and stunned onlookers.

               “Do you ever wonder if maybe one of us should’ve introduced Warlock to music before Doug did?”  Xi’an asked, as she gripped a safety rail Warlock had produced.

               “I happen to like Doug’s taste in music.”  Amara said, tossing her hair back.

               Rahne transformed into her hybrid wolf-form.  “Eyes on the prize, ladies!”

               The hovercraft came to a stop outside of a convention center, the front of which had been blown out, and was smoking, strewn with rubble.  “Warlock.”  Xi’an said, “Run a scan, see if you can get us a count of the hostiles. 

               Warlock transformed into his lanky alien form, and then his arm twisted into a scanning device.  “Self is detecting unusual energy signatures inside.”  He paused.  “…Status:Confusion.”

               “What is it, Warlock?”  Rahne asked, sniffing the air.  “Smells like brimstone…”

               Xi’an narrowed her eyes, and then put two fingers on her temple.  “I’m borrowing the eyes of a security guard.”  She said.

               Inside, the security guard rounded a corner, and pulled his gun on a man in a black-armored bodysuit, who turned, and then vanished, in a cloud of noxious gas.

               BAMF!

               Before the guard could turn, the intruder appeared to his left and lashed out with a kick, knocking him unconscious. 

               Xi’an snapped to and blinked.  “What in the world…?”  She looked to the others.  “There’s a teleporter in there.  And his teleportation tell is identical to _Kurt’s_.”

               “That’s…”  Amara paused, “Improbable.”

               “It’s suspicious, is what it is.”  Rahne said.  “Warlock, get rid of the blasted smoke!”  She loped forward as someone came staggering out of the building.  “Wha’s goin’ on in there today?”

               “It’s a science expo!”  The terrified convention center staffer said, having fallen to the ground in front of Rahne, “G-genetics and biology!”

               “This doesn’t make any sense.”  Illyana said.

               “Correction, SelffriendIllyana,”  Warlock said, as he transformed his hand into a giant fan and began to blow the smoke away, “Selffriends do not yet have a complete collection of pertinent facts.”  He turned and leaned in toward the woman on the ground.  “Self shall illustrate with a question.  Query:Who is the keynote speaker at this convention?”  He looked up at the others.  “Self has been taking in detective shows on Netflix and many TED talks and lectures on critical thinking skills.”  Then he beamed.

               “Some… some expert on the Mutant genome!  She’s doing cutting-edge research on the Mutant-Inhuman connection—”  The woman screamed, as another detonation shook the interior.

               “All right.”  Xi’an said.  “Rahne, Magma, take point.  Warlock, bring up the rear.”  She pointed to Illyana and gestured to the right, before fanning out to the left, as they entered the lobby.

               “Alarm!”  Warlock said, jerking his head upward, “Self detects infrared signatures on the upper level, two of which are restraining a third, state:agitation-struggling…!”

               “Everybody to me.”  Illyana said, as the group drew back in.  “Going in hot.”  A stepping-disk formed underneath her, and the group sank into-it, before rising out of another stepping-disk onto the upper gallery. 

               “Shut her up!”  A voice called, before three men and a woman emerged from a side door into the gallery.  A dark-skinned woman was caught in the grip of two of the men, cursing and struggling.  The woman stopped, and then looked up, from the three women, to Warlock.  “X-Men.  We’ve been made!”  She stepped forward.  “Get her out the back, I’ll hold them off.”

               “You’re not armed,”  Karma said, squinting, “How are you going to hold us off?”

               The woman grinned, beneath her visored mask, and then clenched her fists.  Her skin rippled, and slowly began to transform, her size increasing, before she stood in front of them, her body made of gleaming organic metal.

               Illyana narrowed her eyes, and then cursed under her breath.  “Warlock, hold her off while we go after the others.  As the woman charged, Warlock strode to meet her, launching long techno-organic arms and grappling with her.

               “And I _will_ get an explanation for this,”  Illyana said, as they gave chase.

               “They’re still on us!”  One of the black-clad men called, as they dragged the woman backward.  One of the men snarled, then cuffed the woman in the side of the head.  As he turned, it became apparent that his fingers were clawed, and he had long fangs.  “…Which means we have to fight.   Good.  We finally get to test these powers out against a real target.”

               One of the other men looked up, and then flipped up his visor.  His eyes glowed red.

               “Down!”  Amara called, as her body flared with shimmering heat. 

               Ruby-red energy lanced forth from the man’s eyes, blasting over the room and striking Amara.  It splashed off her magma body, and she pushed back against it, but her assailant grinned, and pushed back.

               “Sabretooth and Cyclops,”  Xi’an breathed, “Great.  Well, fortunately we brought the right tools to this fight!”  She closed her eyes, and suddenly the fanged assailant’s eyes glowed red, and he turned, lunging onto the faux-Cyclops.

               “What the—HEY!”  The third man turned, and then move to grab the woman.  “I’m getting her out of here—”  He threw her over his shoulder, and then teleported in a blast of brimstone vapor, only for Illyana to follow on his heels, rising out of a stepping-disk a fraction of an instant after he appeared.  She swung the Soulsword at him, and instinctively the man reared back to avoid the strike, gasping in horror as the blade passed through him, and losing his grip on the woman.

               “Got you!”  Rahne said, leaping and grabbing the woman as she fell.

               Then the wall behind them burst inward, as the steel woman crashed through it, grappling with Warlock, who had transformed himself into a techno-organic octopus.  “Get OFF ME—”

               “Magik!”  Xi’an called, “Rahne’s got her.  We’ve denied them their objective, fall back before they can regroup!”  As the team gathered, she kneeled down.  “Back to the HQ.  We’ll sort this out there.”

               The stepping-disk appeared beneath them, and they sank down into it.

               The metal woman looked at her comrades, and then scowled, before she touched an intercom at her wrist.  “Ajay, we’ve got a problem.  A group of X-Men intervened and made off with the objective.”

The communicator came to life.  “This is a setback, but not a critical one.  Fall back for now.”

               “You heard the man,”  The woman said to the others, as police sirens sounded outside.  “We’re vapor.”

               _Later…_

               Dr. Honoria Ocasio-Aguilar winced, as she woke up.  A cool towel had been laid on her head, and she pulled it off.  “Small mercies.”  She said, before she looked around.  She was on a bed in a med-bay, small but exceptionally well-appointed.  She sat up, and winced at a lump on her temple, and then looked up, as Xi’an came in.

               “She lives!”  Xi’an said.  “Black coffee and painkillers, the post-attempted abduction breakfast of champions.  Don’t worry, Dr. Aguliar, you’re with the X-Men now.”

               Dr. Aguilar paused.  “The X-Men?  Really?  Do you know Hank McCoy?”

               Xi’an smiled.  “I took science classes from him when I was younger.  My name is Xi’an.”

               Dr. Aguilar helped herself to the painkillers and coffee.  “God, after all this time, I finally get to network with the X-Men.  All it took was someone trying to bushwhack me.”

               Xi’an paused.  “Yeah.  About that.  Our team leader has decided that until we know why those men are trying to kidnap you and who they are, we’d like you to stay with us.  Completely voluntarily, of course—you’re free to go whenever you like, Dr. Aguilar.”

               Dr. Aguilar paused, and then ran her fingers through her hair.  “Call me Honey.  Dr. Aguilar’s too formal, and only my grandmother uses my full name.” 

               Xi’an blushed.  “…Honey, then.”

               “I know why they wanted me.”  Dr. Aguilar said.  “…I’d finally found the proof.  The proof of my theory about the Mutant-Inhuman connection.  I found evidence, genetic indicators that show that the Inhumans originate from ancient human carriers of the X-Gene.  The Kree discovered it millenia ago and manipulated the human genome so they could draw it out.  Their experiments were only a partial success… the genetically modified humans they created would manifest abilities, but it required a volatile organic chemical catalyst – Terrigen, and the success rates were and are sub-optimal.”  She paused.  “But…”

               Xi’an tilted her head.  “But…?”

               “But, the Kree still managed to do it, and thanks to Hank McCoy, we know more about the X-Gene than they ever did.  In _theory_ the experiment could be replicated... without the need for extensive genetic engineering or a messy catalyst.”

               “So…”  Xi’an blanched. “You found a way to artificially induce mutation.”

               Honey met her eyes, and then nodded.  “I did.”

               “Those people… they had powers identical or near-identical to other mutants.  X-Men.  Well, three X-Men and one… whatever Sabretooth is.”  She exhaled.  “Could you control how those powers manifest?”

               “…Well, that’s a complicated yes,”  Honey said, “…But yes.  It’s absolutely possible.”

               Xi’an’s expression went grave.  “Made-to-order mutants.  We need to call Kitty.”

              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to focus on some of the girls this chapter, I feel like I haven't developed their voices as well. I was surprised that Xi'an came to the forefront, but on reflection, I always felt like she had a tactical mind (it's also the role she shares with Doug in Munchkin X-Men).
> 
> Next chapter, Doug's back! You may commence Kermit armflails. And a new Language X will be coming along sometime after issue 3 - because who doesn't love a Cypher and Cannonball team-up, especially when they're fighting to stop a villain with big hair and a big attitude from resurrecting the Go-Go Eighties! Time to party like it's 1983!


	3. Issue #3: Begging the Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit by bit, the curtain gets pulled back! As the New X-Men attempt to discern the nature and source of their designer mutant foes, the mind behind it all plans his next move... and you won't BELIEVE who's gonna get roped into this mess!

_Miami, 5:00 AM_

               The X-Pod personal flier landed on the landing deck of the Miami high rise before the sun peeked above the city skyline.  The cockpit opened and Doug stepped down, before he opened a hatch in the pod and pulled out a suitcase.  He trudged inside, and then looked around – the main room of the base was empty, but signs of the others were everywhere.  Fur on a chair – Rahne.  A bag of banana chips left rolled up on the couch – Bobby.  He gave a little smile, before passing through the room.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and looked at the floorplan – his room was highlighted in green.

               It was dark, and Doug let his mind go blissfully blank before dropping his briefcase in the doorway, and then he pulled his shirt off and moved to collapse onto the bed.  He had half-fallen asleep, before he felt the body move against him.

               A pair of shrieks brought everyone else running.  Doug had lept out of the bed and was against the door.  Honey was against the far wall and had picked up a lamp. 

               “Hey, hey!”  Bobby said, stepping between them, “Whoa!  Everybody _chill_ —”

               “What the heck’s goin’ on?”  Sam said, rubbing one eye and suppressing a yawn.

               “What’s going on is that this guy just crawled into bed with me and decided to be the big spoon!”  Honey said.

               Doug pointed at her, and then rounded on Bobby.  “What was she doing in my bed, da Costa!?”

               “We put her up in there for the night until we could get another guest room ready!”  Bobby said, “We thought you’d be back later this morning.”  He held up his hands.  “This…”  He gestured, “Is Dr. Honoria Ocasio-Aguilar.  Doctor,”  He gestured back to Doug, “This is Douglas Ramsey.”

               Doug squinted.  “Dr… you’re the one who wrote those scientific papers about the Mutant-Inhuman link.”

               Honey paused.  “…You know my work?”

               Illyana looked up, and brushed her hair back from her face, as she stepped into the doorway.  “Doug consumes information _ruthlessly_ , doctor.  The surprise would be if he hadn’t read your work.”  She raised an eyebrow.  “Good morning, Doug.”

               “…Morning.”  Doug said, rubbing the back of his neck.  Then he looked to Bobby.  “Bobby, I’m _exhausted_.  I’m not going to kick the doctor out—”

               “Appreciated,”  Honey said, as she put down the lamp.

               “—No problem.  But can I at least get a blanket so I can sleep on the couch?”

               “I thought—”  Sam said, looking between Doug and Illyana.

               Illyana’s mouth turned up at the corner.  “Did you, Sam?”

               Sam shook his head.  “Goin’ back to bed.  Not that I can sleep anyway.”  He turned, and walked out.

               Doug quirked his mouth and looked between Sam and Bobby, before Amara stepped in, and yawned, and then pounced on Doug, embracing him.  “Doug, you’re back!  Good morning!”

               Bobby put his hands on his hips, and then said, “Well, Sam has the right of it.  We should all go back to bed.  Doug, I’m afraid you’ll have to camp out on the couch.”

               Honey frowned and blew a stray curl of hair out of her face.  “I’m really sorry about this, Doug.”

               Doug looked up from over Amara’s shoulder, and blinked.  “Oh, it’s quite all right.  Of all the couches to camp out on in the world, this is the one I’d pick.  I’ll just catch a cat-nap anyway.”

               “So,”  Amara said, breaking her hold on Doug, “How was the UK?”  She took him by the arm, and led him out of the room. 

               “Oh, well, I helped Pete Wisdom and Alistaire Stuart capture what turned out to be a Zoroastrian demon…”  Doug’s voice trailed off. 

               Honey ran her fingers through her hair, and went about bringing a semblance of order back to her bed.  “So that’s the mysterious Cypher, huh?  He seems… mild.”

               Illyana paused, where she was leaning in the doorway.  “Still waters run deep and hide sharp rocks in odd places, doctor.  But he is the best of us.”  She turned, and left, shutting the door behind her.  “Good morning.”

               Honey stared at the door, and then shook her head.  “Honey, it’s just like your grandma told you, you are in over your head…”  She dropped back onto the bed.

               _Late the next morning:_

               The war room inside the penthouse base centered on a round table with a holographic terminal in the center of it.  At the moment, it was taken up by a 3D projection of Kitty Pryde, who was scowling as she faced down Bobby and Xi’an.  “I don’t like what I’m reading.  I don’t like it at all.”

               Honey looked up, and then said, “Miss Pryde, I assure you, my research was meant to help mutants.  If we can gain more insight into the how, when, and why mutant powers manifest, we can help ameliorate traumatic manifestations—or even predict them before they happen and lessen their severity.”

               Kitty tapped her fingers against one arm.   “Or create designer mutants for the highest bidder.”

               Honey narrowed her eyes.  “Or that.”

               “I’m missing something here,”  Bobby said.  “You can’t just take mutant powers and implant them into somebody, or they would’ve figured out a way to do that years ago.  Every designer mutant we’ve ever seen was built from the ground up in some way or another.”

               “Exactly.”  Honey said.  “The process was prohibitive.  Clones take time to gestate, raise, and train, and the results are sub-optimal.  Metahuman genetics are… an inexact and murky science.  What creates a Hulk or a Spider-Man might just kill somebody else, but it’s almost certain that a latent X-Gene has something to do with it.”

               “Like how we know that the child of a meta-human will almost always be a mutant.”  Xi’an said.  “With two meta-humans involved, it’s almost a certainty.”

               “And how first-generation mutants are a complete crap-shoot,”  Kitty said, “And even mutant siblings will often manifest completely different powers from one another.”

               “Sam Guthrie’s family is a textbook example of that.”  Honey said.  “At this point the odds are high that each of his siblings who weren’t depowered in the M-Day event will manifest a mutant ability.”

               “Yeah, it keeps him up nights.”  Bobby said.  “So, somebody’s found a way to implant mutant powers in grown adults that isn’t cost-prohibitive.”

               “Yes.”  Honey said, “But I think they’re looking for ways to further refine the process, which is why they came after me.”

               The door opened, and Doug came in.  His hair was mussed, and he took a long moment to stretch, with a tremendous yawn.  “Hey gang.  Mind if I sit in?”

               The corner of Kitty’s mouth turned up.  “Well if it isn’t sleeping beauty.” 

               “Have a seat.”  Xi’an said.  “The doctor was just leading us through some of her research on the connection between Mutants and Inhumans.”

               As Doug scooted into a chair, Honey went on.  “We know that both mutants and inhumans have manifestations of super-normal abilities explicitly tied to their genetics.  With mutants, the manifestation is spontaneous.  Inhumans require exposure to a catalyst – terrigen.  It was the first recorded instances of mutants being exposed to terrigen that led me to the path that led to my current research, and the key is—well, what M-Pox is.”

               Doug leaned in.  “A malignant secondary mutation induced by exposure to terrigen?”

               Honey paused.  “…Yes.”

               “He’s not a geneticist, doctor, but our boy Doug here is _very_ quick on the uptake.”  Kitty said. 

               “Well, he’s right.  That’s exactly what it is.  When a mutant is exposed to terrigen, they interact with it in a way similar to how an Inhuman does, but it… goes wrong.  A mutant might experience vastly enhanced powers but using those powers might cause them physical harm—like Roberto.  Or their body may just not be able to cope with rapid onset physical alterations… and they might die.”

               Xi’an looked up.  “Luna Maximoff is the child of an inhuman and a mutant.”

               “That’s true, but Luna’s also a child.  I don’t think she’s going to be available for research anytime soon.”  Kitty said.

               “Thus Hank McCoy’s problem finding a treatment for M-Pox… since almost every first-generation mutant’s powers are unique, and M-Pox is a form of secondary mutation, treatment has to be designed from the ground up, and successes have been inconsistent.  Julian Keller’s M-Pox is in complete remission.  Roberto has to use a power regulator.”

               “I have very good people working on it.”  Bobby said.

               “I know, and believe me, I’d love to corner Dr. Ho and pick her brain.”  Honey said. 

               “Well,” Kitty said, “The important thing is, that whoever’s behind this wants you, which means we want you more.  I’d like you to work closely with Xi’an and Doug – she’s a trained lab technician among other things, and he’s the master of unexpected insights.”

               “Toni’s a busy woman,”  Bobby said, “But I’ll see if I can work in one of my M-Pox treatments to get you some time with her, too.  I’m going to have Doug keep a weather eye out and see if he can narrow down where these designer mutants are operating out of.   When they pop up, we’ll jump on them and rock their world.  And if I can find out more about who’s behind this, we can get out in front of them.”

               “Agreed.”  Kitty said.  “Well, I have a thousand other demands on my time, so I have to go, but please keep me informed.”  She touched a button on her console, and her hologram faded away.  “Be safe, guys.”

               “I’ll text you,”  Doug said, waving to Kitty.

               “You better.”  Kitty said, before she disappeared.

               Bobby looked around the table and clapped his hands together as he rose.  “You heard the boss lady.  You have your jobs, go and do them.”

               “Actually it seems like only a couple of you have jobs, and the rest of you are on standby,”  Honey said, as she tucked her tablet under her arm.

               Bobby turned, and winked, before he slipped out the door.

               _Meanwhile…_

               Ajay Singh was tall, and lean.  He wore his hair rakishly styled, and his beard was short and neat.  He favored bespoke suits, though he’d shrugged off his jacket and had his sleeves rolled up to the elbows.  “So… you failed.”  He stroked his chin, and mused, thoughtfully, “There’s valuable data in failure.”

               He turned, to the young woman sitting in an office chair, her head bowed.  “Joyce.  Don’t be so hard on yourselves.  The X-Men are mutant paramilitaries with years of experience and some of the best-coordinated team tactics on the planet.  Once they engaged with you, this op was a failure.”  He looked to the three men sitting nearby.  “So stop with the self-recrimination.  The same goes for all of you.”  He smiled, grinning broadly.  “In fact, this was an important field test of your abilities.  We now have evidence that your induced mutations are viable and stable in a high-stress environment.  And that, my friends,”  Ajay snapped his fingers, “Is cash money.”

               Ajay turned, abruptly, on his heel, and paced the length of the room.  “But on the other hand… a failed engagement with the X-Men is not going to move product.  In order to reel in the prospective buyers I’ve been feeling out, we need something showy.  We need a _win_ , and we need a flashy one.”  He sat at a computer and began to surf the news.  Suddenly his eyes lit up.  “And what have we here…?”  His mouth split in a wide, Cheshire grin.  ” _Bingo…!_ ”

               He leaned back in his chair, studying the article.

               - NEW WARRIORS TO FRONT HEROES FOR HEALTH CHARITY FUNDRAISER WEEKEND -

               “…I suppose it’d be really, _really douchey_ to ruin their charity event.”  Ajay said, before he looked up at the others. “What do you guys think?”  He turned the computer monitor around.

               One young man spoke up.  “I always thought that… thing Justice wore on his head looked really stupid.”

               “Yeah, and I can’t stand Speedball,” another said, “what a dork that guy is.”

               “Well then!  Hit the training room.   The New Warriors are going to be your proof-of-concept.”  Ajay said.   Then he laughed.  “God, being a super-villain is _so much fun_!  And to think mom wanted me to go into osteopathy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...What can I say, I like splashy crossovers. If you had to pick one of the New Warriors who'd become a persistent character in NXM, who would it be?

**Author's Note:**

> And here it is, the first chapter of my new ongoing! For reference to "Language X", Issue #1 takes place at the same time as "Song of Sacrifice." Doug will be largely absent for the first couple of issues, because he's busy elsewhere ("Song of Sacrifice" and "Battle Hymns") and because I want to develop some of the others' voices--
> 
> Next issue, trouble comes to paradise!


End file.
